


Remedy

by LoveThemWinchesters



Series: Foreplay [4]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - J2, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Implied Bottom!Jensen, Implied Top!Jared, M/M, POV Jensen Ackles, Stripper!Jensen, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trust, caring!jared, hurt!Jensen, stripper!jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 10:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6800464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveThemWinchesters/pseuds/LoveThemWinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A broken foot and an iPhone. Jensen is injured and can't take the stage tonight. So what does a loving husband do? (Jensen POV)<br/> </p><p>**Note: As of right now, each part of this 'verse can be read alone and you should be fine; although there can possibly be spoilers/mentions of things that happened earlier in the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here's Part 4! Have fun. I hope I did justice to the rest of the 'verse :)
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I mean no disrespect to the people portrayed herein. We're all just having a little fun, aren't we? :)  
> \----------------------------------------------------  
> Warnings: This fic is m/m. Please do not read if you don’t like or are uncomfortable with this content.  
> 

 

 

 

_Crack!_

“Ow! God-fucking-dammit!” Jensen hissed as he dropped to the bathroom floor like a sack of bricks. He rolled over onto his back and let out a ragged breath as the pain radiated up his toe, foot, ankle, and then his lower leg. “Fuck,” he muttered. _What evil circle of hell had that door jamb appeared from?_

He guessed he deserved it walking around in the dark at 3:00am so he could take a leak. He’d never had a problem with it before, though, could maneuver through the dark of the house like a blind man familiar with his own surroundings. Apparently, his internal radar was broken tonight.

It had become a matter of habit, getting up and moving around in the dark if he had to hit the head or get a drink. He knew the house well enough and didn’t like to bother Jared while the man was trying to sleep. Then again, now that he thought about it, an actual tornado could probably hit the house and Jared wouldn’t wake up after the earth-quaking sex they’d had not more than two hours ago. His husband was currently sleeping like the dead.

Jensen took a deep breath and forced himself back up to his feet, tentatively letting his weight settle down on his right foot. He hissed out in pain. _Shitshitshit._ Ice. He needed ice. It would help keep any possible swelling down. Yeah, he could do this.

He limped/hobbled to the kitchen being sure to keep his weight on his heel rather than the rest of his foot. It was a slow-going process, a distance he usually crossed in maybe a half minute taking him closer to five whole minutes.

After he’d popped a few ibuprofen, he took a seat in the living room, leg outstretched in front of him on the couch, foot propped up on throw pillow with a towel-wrapped bag of ice cubes numbing the ache in his foot.

A handful of hours later, he was still there. He groaned as he slowly blinked his eyes open. Jared was standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow arched in question. Jensen opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry from sleeping with his mouth open and all that came out was an unintelligible croak. On top of that, he had a kink in his neck, a cramp in his back—and his foot still throbbed with the heat of pain.

“What, the bed not comfortable enough for you?” Jared asked with a wry smirk. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and he had on a pair of linen sleep pants. His chest and feet were bare and he scratched his stomach as he waited for Jensen to wake up enough to form a coherent answer.

“Um…” Jensen cleared his throat and glanced down at his still-swollen foot; the bag of ice had melted and had left a dark, wet stain on the burgundy pillow under his foot.

Jared followed his gaze. “Jesus, Jensen. What the hell’d you do?” In the blink of an eye, he was at Jensen’s side and crouched down on his heels. His large hands hovered over Jensen’s foot in indecision before he looked back up at him.

“Stubbed my damn toe. I just need to ice it up a bit more. It’ll be fine. See?” he began to flex his toes, but ended up biting back a broken curse instead. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he rolled his head back to look up at the ceiling while he waited for the pain to subside.

“I’m calling my brother,” Jared said sternly.

“I can’t, Jared. I have a show tonight.”

“Screw the show, Jensen. Morgan can find someone else to take your place tonight.”

“Jared—”

Jared held his hand up cutting Jensen off. “I’m not arguing about this. You’re hurt.”

Jensen groaned silently, but he held his tongue as Jared disappeared to make the call.

~*~

Jensen had really gone all out and done it to himself this time: a displaced fracture of the fifth metatarsal bone; that’s what the x-ray and follow-up MRI had shown.

He was now at home in his bed, four hours post-surgery and had a very unattractive boot adorning his foot. The good doctor, none other than Jeff Padalecki himself, had said Jensen would be out of commission for at least six to eight weeks, and possibly longer considering his chosen profession.

To say Jensen was in a foul mood would have been putting it lightly.

“Jared, leave me alone.” His husband was adjusting the pillows at the foot of the bed in order to keep Jensen’s foot propped up; the stack had fallen over when Jensen had shifted his leg because of a cramp. “I’m not a damn invalid. I can take care of myself,” he griped.

Jared gave a tired sigh. “I know you’re not, but you just had surgery.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jensen growled.

Okay, maybe Jensen was being a little bit childish, and maybe he shouldn’t be taking it out on Jared—Jared didn’t deserve it—but, dammit, he was going to be laid up for _two months_! How in the world was he going to survive that?

And his job… Someone was going to have to take over for him while he was out. He didn’t care about the early evening spots, but the Prime slot… There was a very good possibility he was going to lose it. Jeff Morgan was a good friend of theirs, but he _did_ have a business to run and would have to pull someone in…someone who could potentially steal Jensen’s place.

Jensen groaned out in frustration. “Jared, look… I don’t mean to be… I’m sorry, okay? This just…sucks.”

Jared came up and sat down next to him on the bed. He smiled softly at Jensen. “I know,” he said cutting Jensen’s apology off. “You don’t have to apologize.” He leaned over and kissed Jensen on the forehead. “Just get some rest, okay?” The man had the patience of a saint.

Jensen reached out and took Jared’s hand in his own before he could get back up and threaded their fingers together. “Stay with me for a while?”

Jared nodded. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Thank you,” he replied somewhat sluggishly, pain meds making him drowsy. He was close to drifting off when a thought occurred to him causing him to open his eyes wide and look up at Jared.

“Jensen, what?” Jared looked startled.

“Go on for me.”

“What?” Jared frowned, confusion seeping into his blue, green, and brown eyes.

“You know the set. You’ve been down at the club watching me practice this week. Hell, you even got up there and did a few moves with me. Go on for me.”

Jared shook his head. “No. That was a one-time thing. I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You’re great up there. Call Morgan and tell him you’ll cover for me.”

“Jensen…”

“Please.”

Jared shifted. He rubbed his free hand over his five o’clock shadow—he hadn’t shaved today because of Jensen’s little dilemma—and groaned. If Jensen knew his husband, and he did very well, all he had to do was give him that extra little push.

“C’mon. I trust you. And if you go up there for me, I don’t have to worry about some young upstart trying to steal my show. You know Jeff will let you. You saw the crowd’s reaction when you were up there; they loved you.”

“But…that was for you.”

“So do this for me,” he pleaded. “Please, c’mon, don’t make me beg,” Jensen said with a sly grin.

“Oh, but you beg so pretty,” Jared teased with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Jensen could feel the flush rising on his neck from his husband’s comment. He knew how much Jared enjoyed seeing him beg.

But Jared still didn’t give him an answer. Silence fell between them. He could see Jared thinking, the gears in his head spinning as he tried to come up with some excuse to give. Jared sighed and blew out a breath, his long bangs fluttering in the deep exhale.

“Fine. I’ll do this for you. _One time_ ,” he added.

Jensen’s smile couldn’t have been bigger. He forgot all about his foot until he launched up to hug Jared, the movement sending a jolt of pain through him causing him to wince. “Ow.”

“I know you’re excited, but, geez, don’t hurt yourself more. This is a limited deal.”

Jared helped to get Jensen resituated before calling Jeff to see what the man thought of Jensen’s plan.

Of course, Jeff thought it was a fantastic idea.

~*~

“I want to come,” Jensen said when he woke up two hours later from a pain med-induced nap.

Jared had just gotten out of the shower and was getting ready to head down to Prime. It was still early, but he was planning on reviewing some of Jensen’s practice session tapes from this week. (Yes, Jensen taped himself so he could see where his shortfalls were; a lot of the guys did it.)

“You know there’s nothing more I would like than to have you there. Fuck, I’m scared shitless that I’m going to screw this up on you; it’s _your_ set—but you can’t. You’re all drugged up and you need to rest. You can’t afford to mess that foot up more.”

Jensen hated when Jared was right. “Fine. But get me my damn cell phone. I have a call to make.”

“Who you gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters,” he deadpanned.

Jared picked Jensen’s phone up off the bureau. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute, you geek,” he teased as he tossed the device to Jensen.

“You’re the geek…geek. And I’m calling Jeff.”

Jared looked nonplussed and Jensen grinned. He held up his iPhone and pointed to it. “iPhone,” he said by way of explanation. Jared gave him an “ _I know that_ ” look. “You have one and I have one,” he continued. “Facetime, dude. You’re gonna give Jeff your phone and he’s gonna let me watch. And then you’re gonna pretend I’m there, that you’re dancing for me and me alone, just like last time.”

Jared nodded. Jensen could see some of the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders lessen. Jared strode across the room in four large steps. He leaned down to pull Jensen into a hug and then he kissed him soundly.

“Thank you for that,” he said against Jensen’s lips.

~*~

Jensen looked at the clock. The digital numbers rolled from 9:48pm to 9:49pm. The last couple of hours had dragged by so slowly it felt like time was moving backwards. He was nervous and he was nervous for Jared.

He nearly fell out of bed when his phone rang. He fumbled with the device and answered without looking at the caller ID.

“Yeah?”

“Hey,” a breathless Jared said over the line. “’Bout to go on.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Wish me luck.”

“Break—” Jensen cut himself off. One broken bone today was enough. “Kick it in the ass, Jared. And I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe. Gotta run; Felicia’s giving me the eye. Talk to you soon.”

With that, Jared was gone. Jensen blew out a breath and rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair.

Less than five minutes later, his cell phone was chiming, letting him know an incoming Facetime call was coming in. He took a deep breath and answered.

Jeff Morgan’s face filled the screen. “Hey, how’s my star dancer?”

“Stunning,” he answered sarcastically. “Jared just called. He said he’s okay, but how’s he really doing?”

“Kid’s nervous—you really couldn’t have left him with a tougher set—but I’ve got faith in him.”

Jeff’s opinion calmed Jensen’s nerves some. If he didn’t think Jared was good enough, he wouldn’t let him on the stage. Jeff had a reputation to hold up after all.

“Good. Thanks for looking out for him. And thanks for doing this.”

The background image behind Jeff shifted as he moved from his office out to the club proper. His face washed out some in the darkness, but was highlighted by the shifting of the lights giving it an eerie glow.

“You just get yourself healed so I can get your pretty ass back on my stage.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, get your ugly mug outta my way and let me watch my husband.”

“You always were a pain in the ass,” Jeff grinned, bright smile breaking out on his face, dimples etching deeply into his salt- and pepper-scruffed cheeks. “Have fun, kiddo. Now hang on while I get you turned around.”

Again the view shifted as Jeff flipped the camera so it focused on the stage instead of him. Jensen could see a packed house; groups of excited women and some men crowded the stage area. He crossed his fingers.

Jeff was right when he’d said Jensen had left Jared with a difficult set, but he didn’t have much time to think about it when the lights dimmed and _Ayo Technology_ by 50 Cent began to play, the song he had picked out to dance to tonight.

 _Something special,_  
_Unforgettable,_  
_50 Cent (cent),_  
_Justin (tin),_  
_Timbaland (land), god damn (damn)_

Jensen held his breath, eyes focused on the tiny screen.

 _She she, she want it, I want to give it to her_  
_She know that, it's right here for her_  
_I want to, see you break it down_  
_I'm ballin', throwing money around_

Spotlights shifted crisscrossing the stage. Jensen saw Jared’s tall form in the leftover shadows. The bright spotlights disappeared and a soft glow grew around his husband. He had on a similar outfit to what Jensen had planned to wear: tight-fitting, black leather pants that did nothing to hide what Jared was packing, a black, form-fitting t-shirt, and black combat boots. His hair was neatly slicked back, but Jensen knew by the end of the routine, Jared’s hair would be back to its normal, unruly mess. To top it all off, he also had on a pair of mirrored aviators.

Jensen rolled his bottom lip in and pressed his teeth into it as Jared stepped forward pulling off his sunglasses and tossing them aside before setting into motion. And—Jensen squinted his eyes, looking closer at the screen—did Jared have kohl around his eyes? _Holy shit, he did!_ He must have gotten into Jensen’s stage make-up. Jensen may or may not have just picked up a new kink: Jared in leather with kohl. Yeah, totally.

 _She work it girl, she work the pole_  
_She break it down, she take it low_  
_She fine as hell, she about the dough_  
_She doing her thing out on the floor_

Jared was at the pole (something he’d only ever goofed around on like a giant kid at a playground) and wrapped a long leg around it. After a quick revolution around it, he spun so his back was to the pole and gripped it over his head, the full stretch exposing the slick, tanned line of his abs between cotton and leather. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid down the pole with cat-like grace and sank into a deep squat, legs spread wide, eyes closed, head rolling back and exposing the alluring line of his throat. Even through the crappy phone camera, Jensen could see the steady rise and fall of Jared’s chest as he pushed up with those strong legs and let himself come down again.

The song shifted into the next verse and suddenly Jared was back up, moving to the fast beat of the lyrics pouring out of the sound system. His whole body was in motion—ass shaking, arms flexing, every muscle shifting under sun-kissed flesh—as it gleamed spectacularly under the heat of the lights. He strode to the edge of the stage where he dropped down backwards into a semi-crab position, one hand on the floor, and thrust his hips in a seductive fashion toward a small group of women.

 _Look at the way she shakin' shakin'_  
_Make you want to touch it, make you want to taste it_  
_Have you lustin' for her, go crazy face it_  
_Now don't stop, get it, get it_  
  
Jensen watched as his husband’s moves enticed them to reach out and run their hands over the soft leather pants. It was all part of the routine, but Jensen held his breath as they roamed further up—almost too far—before Jared was back up and away from their touches leaving the trio of women breathless in his wake.

The words of the song faded into the background as Jensen sat, mesmerized. Absently, he palmed the rise of his cock in his boxer briefs as Jared played the stage as if he owned it, long limbs moving smoothly in sync with the beat of the music. If Jensen could only look half as hot as that…

It wasn’t long before the thin shirt was torn off baring Jared’s oil-slicked torso: his broad, muscular chest; the abs he worked so hard to keep, well, hard; his shoulders… Jared pivoted on his heel and gave a show of his leather-clad ass and bare back, arms stretched out to show off the flex and pull of lean muscles. Jensen’s eyes roamed over the exposed flesh he was so familiar with, skin he’d had his hands all over last night as Jared had made love to him, but the professional side of him was also watching for any missteps or unique moves Jared may have thrown into the mix. As far as he could see, Jared had it. Jensen’s heart warmed with not only lust, but pride in his husband as well.

Jared moved back to center stage. He teased the crowd with tantalizing caresses of his hands up and down his sides, fingers slipping behind the waistband of his pants only to then smile and shake his head no. (That was all Jared right there, Jensen mused.) The volume of the crowd rose and Jared continued to taunt them and play it up. He swiveled so his back was once again to the audience and he leaned low into a toe touch giving them a playful booty shake. When he brought himself back up to his full height, the pants were torn away and tossed off into the shadows.

Cat calls and whistles drowned out the sound coming through the phone and Jensen grinned as he watched Jared _shake it, shake it_.

 _Different style, different move, damn I like the way you move_  
_Girl you got me thinking about, all the things I do to you_  
_Let's get it poppin' shorty we can switch positions_  
_From the couch to the counters in my kitchen_

And then Jared was back down on the floor doing a similar move to the one that had gotten Jensen so damn turned on and hard in his pants the last time his husband was up there. He fell down into a push-up and gave several rolling thrusts against the floor that left Jensen’s imagination running wild. He didn’t care how late Jared got home tonight, but he was seriously getting some of that. _  
_

_Aayooh_  
_I'm tired of using technology, why don't you sit down on top of me_  
_Aayooh_  
_I'm tired of using technology, I need you right in front of me_

The song was starting to wind down. Jared was in the full swing of things, absolutely kicking ass up there. Jensen was amazed at how fast his husband had picked up the steps and memorized all the moves; granted, he’d been at the club a few evenings this week watching Jensen choreograph this set. (He’d even come up with a few ideas of his own that Jensen had added to the routine.) _  
_

_Your hips, your thighs, you got me hypnotized, let me tell you_  
_Your hips, your thighs, you got me hypnotized, let me tell you_  
_Your hips, your thighs, you got me hypnotized, let me tell you_  
_Your hips, your thighs, you got me hypnotized, let me tell you_

Before Jensen knew it, the stage faded to black. The audience settled as much as they could after a routine like that. Seconds later, the lights came back on. Jared, wide smile gracing his face, gave a low bow and a wave; the sound of cheers overwhelmed the phone again and then it was dark once more and Jared was gone from view.

The image on the phone shifted after a moment and Jeff was back. Jensen had practically forgotten the man was even there. The sight of his friend/boss instantly cooled the heat that had built up in Jensen’s groin for the past three and a half minutes.

Jeff gave a loud _whoop_ of triumph. “What do you think the chances are that we can get him to cover for you until you come back?”

Jensen barked out a laugh.

Jared was so going to kill him.

 

~ Fin ~

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember to leave comments. If you don't feel like leaving a comment and like the story even just a little, hit the Kudos button so I know you were here.
> 
>  
> 
> **Note: My email address is in my profile. If anyone should like to contact me for anything, please feel free to drop me a line :)
> 
> *************************************************************
> 
> Song(s) mentioned in this fic: Ayo Technology by 50 Cent ft Justin Timberlake, Timberland
> 
> Click [here](http://youtube.com/watch?v=4O4feFdvoEQ) for YouTube link to song/lyrics.


End file.
